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Ivins encapsulated much popular unease with George W. Bush in the
humorously demeaning title of her book, Shrub. Even to many
supporters, George W. seemed small, not just in size but in character
and intellect as well. Opponents parodied his less-than-perfect
articulation of the English language; even many supporters were
lukewarm, seeing Bush as acceptable — and surely preferable
to the Democrats — but utterly unremarkable. After eight years
of the glib and egregiously self-promoting Bill Clinton, Washington
was settling in for a rather dull time over the next four years:
sensible shoes, and moderation in all things. When terror stabbed
at the heart of New York and Washington, many waited with apprehension
to see how the president would react. The drama of the moment seemed
made for the eloquence and forcefulness of a Franklin Roosevelt
or a Ronald Reagan, not the comfortable mediocrity of a George W.
Bush.
Our country
has been fortunate in having eloquence and character at the helm
when it was essential. The classic examples are almost cliches:
Washington in the Revolution and at the beginning of the new government,
Lincoln during the Civil War. FDR may have been a less-than-perfect
role model, and arguably misguided in many of his policies, but
he knew how to lead when it mattered: We can never truly know how
much our nation's perseverance and ultimate victory in World War
II may be attributed to his persistence and eloquence in the early
days of our involvement — and in the months before, when he
worked to keep Britain afloat. Reagan inherited more a malaise than
a full-blown crisis, but rose beyond the occasion, helping to reinvigorate
the nation domestically and accelerate the collapse of the Iron
Curtain and eventually the Soviet Union. Critics may dispute his
policies or point out his detachment from the workings of government,
but like FDR before him, Reagan understood that leadership is as
much theater as substance — but theater undergirded by character.
We may have
been fortunate that Bill Clinton was never seriously tested. He
was an able thespian of the presidential pulpit, but character was
his Achilles heel, and we'll never know whether a baptism by fire
would have tempered or consumed him. He could have personalized
the conflict and exaggerated his capabilities, but on the other
hand, a true crisis might have been a sobering and maturing experience.
Any leader
from the baby-boom generation must harbor self-doubts. Ours is a
generation that lives uneasily in the shadows of its parents. It
may be affluent by historical standards, creative in its transformation
of social and cultural life, and untiring in its self-celebration
— but it had no defining moment that forged its moral character.
Our experience has been the ambivalent quagmire of Vietnam and stagflation,
not the emphatic darkness and light of the Great Depression and
World War II. The response to the terrorism of September 11 will
test a generation, not just a leader.
But what of
that leader? A child of privilege who might charitably be described
as a "late bloomer," Bush appears to be becoming presidential
of necessity. One Bush quality evident in recent days is that he
can adapt and learn. Bush may be unexceptional in intellect, knowledge,
and language, but he knows it. Unlike Clinton, whose considerable
skills were outmatched by his ego — leading to a sense of invincibility
and errors of judgment — Bush is one "shrub" who
seems to have no illusions about the size of his shadow. Rather
than deny his unexceptional attributes, he compensates for them
by simplifying his mission, delegating well, and being willing to
listen to and learn from others. The latter quality served him well
as governor and may help make him an effective coalition leader
today.
Bush's growth
is most evident in his rhetorical presence. Many Americans may be
relieved to have him at the helm given his record as a competent
manager of business and of state government. But extraordinary times
call for something more. Bush may be steady, but would he be inspiring?
It may be unfair to have expected more of anyone, given the shock
and horror of the attacks, but Bush's initial reactions on September
11 and immediately following seemed tentative, faltering, and insufficient,
doing little to fill the yawning chasm in America's psyche. His
message was unexceptional and his delivery pedestrian, monotonic,
at times mangled, and overrun with short, repetitive sentences.
Of course, there is virtue in that — he avoided hysteria or
inflammatory remarks; there was no sense of panic in his voice.
But over the past two weeks, we have seen a remarkable and welcome
transformation. His speech has grown more confident and lyrical,
his actions more public and sure. On an important and highly visible
occasion, the prayer service at National Cathedral, Bush's remarks
were moving and appropriate, and he held his own amid the eloquence
of Billy Graham and so many other speakers. And then there was his
appearance at the Islamic mosque, sending an important message of
tolerance and respect. But what may be the defining moment of his
presidency, and of this crisis, was his speech to the nation on
September 20.
I can think
of no moment at which reassuring words from the president were more
highly awaited since FDR addressed the Congress and the nation after
Pearl Harbor. Bush rose to this most critical of occasions with
a virtuoso performance that was stirring and forceful, striking
a delicate balance between emotion and reason, compassion and defiance.
Of course, he has skilled staff and advisers to lean on, and the
credit for his performance is not his alone. But it was he alone
who had to stand under the heat of the lights, the glare of the
media and the public, and pull it off. Not one word was mangled,
and the expression in his eyes and his voice conveyed sincerity
and determination. In one critical act he erased many doubts about
his leadership and about American resolve. This was the polar opposite
of Carter's malaise speech; but it was not just feel-good jingoism,
it was sober and thoughtful.
If, in hindsight,
Bush is ever viewed as a great leader, it will be because he was
made such, not born. He is rising to the occasion more than many
skeptics would have expected. Of course, greatness is not always
natural or evident from the beginning. Even Washington was less
than stellar in the French and Indian War, but he learned and matured.
There is one
aspect of Bush's ascendancy that is troubling. In his growing firmness
and vision he is conveying a fortitude that is essential in critical
times — but the path must be well chosen. Think of Lincoln
in the Civil War, asserting the inviolability of the Union and in
time the necessity of emancipation, and in Grant finding a means
to express his unrelenting determination on the battlefield. In
a way Lincoln could be blamed for the extraordinary human toll of
the Civil War and the devastation of the South, and he lost his
life to the bitterness. But most historians and lay people see Lincoln
as great because the cause was large, great, and ultimately successful.
But what is
our large and great cause today? The elimination of terrorism?
This too may
be attainable, and in victory we may look back with scorn on the
doubting Thomases of today. But I worry that, in seeking a way to
express the mission that is simple, unifying, and inspiring, Bush
may be committing our government and our people to an impossible
dream — which could never be satisfied by the small successes
of limited engagements and covert activity — and feeding an
excessive sense of crisis in the economy. It will be in the months
and years ahead, when the black-and-white of good and evil, and
of victory and defeat, becomes a gray fog, that his leadership will
most be tested. If his performance of the past two weeks is any
indication, he may surprise us once again. This shrub is hardy stock.
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